Milady
by xXxAnonymousLoserXxX
Summary: This started off as a serious of short little oneshots that I'm writing to practice my character description for my creative writing class, and then it quickly turned into a little story so I hope you guys enjoy :) (also I had a hard time choosing whether this would be romance or friendship, but I ended up putting romance. You decide if that was the right choice !)


He sat on a hard stone bench that sat low and very close to the Braavosi arena in which he found himself. The first opponent swaggered out from the right with leather padding and a bit of poorly crafted iron mail. The man's sword, however, was a beautiful work of Braavosi steel and what looked like sapphires. He held it firmly in two hands and swung it from side to side, getting the feel of it. The second opponent entered from the left side. A slender girl, she marched in with her head held high. She was completely unprotected and though she had not unsheathed it, her sword hanging still at her side was obviously much smaller than her opponent's. The girl picked up a wooden stick roughly the size of the man's blade and began swinging. The crowed chortled and mocked her, but all Gendry could do was watch as she warmed up, her movements resembling dancing more than sword fighting.  
A vague feeling of recognition twisted itself in the pit of his stomach. The girl was light on her feet with carefully planned yet simultaneously spontaneous movements which made her very dangerous. He could just barely see her face from where he was sitting, but he was able to make out a long chin and big smokey eyes that were so brown they were nearly black. If only she would look at him, he might be able to recognize her. A man with half a head of hair and an impatient air about him walked into the middle of the arena and the girl dropped the stick. He spoke of rules quickly in a thick Braavosi accent and hurried off. The girl finally unsheathed her sword as the announcer introduced the contestants. But Gendry didn't need to hear them to know who she was. He was certain as soon as he laid eyes on her sword, a thin and pointy work of silver Valyrian steel.  
"And to your left you have the boy Arya Stark of the Sunset Kingdoms."  
The horn blew and he could not keep his eyes off of her. Arya. How could he have missed it. The graceful and careful way she moved, how closely she watched and listened while remaining swift and quiet. It was her. It had been years since he'd last seen her. He longed for her all the time. He missed their heated debates and the way she used to make him make her a bed when they were on the run.  
"I'm a lady !" she would joke. "You should be honored to help me." in reality, both knew that she actually was completely ignorant on how to make a bed, but he had played along.  
Since then, he'd been with whores who'd flattered him and wildlings who'd beaten him. He'd been with shy village girls and pushy kitchen wenches. But he'd never truly _been_ with Arya. Not the way he yearned for. She was bullheaded and fierce but she laughed at his jokes and teased him about his bastard pride. She ate as much as he did (sometimes more) and never took no for an answer. She was confident with a willingness to learn and she loved so strongly he was sure over all these long years that it had been the death of her.  
Yet here she was.  
She hadn't changed much. She was still clad in trousers and a tunic as she was always used to. She still had her dancer's look about her and she still used her size and agility to best her opponent. However she was no longer merciful. When all was said and done, her opponent's head had been sliced wholly off with her Needle and his own sapphire sword jutted out from his belly. She did not smile. She did not wave. She finished her fight and coolly made to leave. But he would not have that. He did not dream about her after all these years to simply lose her after finding her utterly by chance in the Free City of Braavos. He would follow her. He would follow her and he would stay with her. Even if she had stopped loving and laughing he would not lose her again. He would make it how she had wanted. They would be a family, as they were meant to have been. She would be his lady.  
When he found her, she was almost mounted up onto a large white mare.  
"Milady" he managed to choke out as their eyes locked. Arya's eyes widened in instant recognition and he'd felt guilty that he'd taken so long to recognize her.  
Tears began forming in her eyes and she demanded the stable boy holding her mare's harness to leave them. She looked as if she was going to hit him, but instead she pressed her fists into her eyes just as the tears started to fall. And to Gendry's surprise, when she lifter her face back up to look at him, she was smiling that same exact toothy smile that he'd fallen in love with all those years ago.


End file.
